by Lynn Emery
LaShaun stood. “You’re right about that. I don’t know if I can, but I’m going to try to find out what really happened no matter who goes down.”
Aunt Shirl looked up at her for a few moments then rose slowly from the sofa. Her face had lines of grief and exhaustion. She seemed to have run out of energy. “I know you have the gift, like your Monmon. Folks say one day it’s gonna burn you up.”
“Maybe.” LaShaun knew she had to do more than look for facts in the human world. She thought back to the whispers in the woods, and the face that appeared to her.
“I know Rita felt bad about the way she dealt with Miz Odette. She had some jealousy toward you, that’s the truth. But there was a time back when y’all were kids that Rita looked up to you. Forgive her, find her killer.”
“I’ll use whatever gift Le Bon Dieu gave me to find her killer,” LaShaun promised.
Rita’s mother gazed at LaShaun for a few minutes. “I never thought you was evil like a lotta folks said. Just headstrong like your Monmon and wild like your mama. We all make mistakes.”
“Thanks, Aunt Shirl.”
“But something bad always seems to follow your footsteps, LaShaun. I want you to stay away from my daughters. Just stay away.”
Aunt Shirl took a step back, and circled around LaShaun as though careful not to get too close. She went out of the room leaving LaShaun alone. Seconds later Uncle Leo came in. He looked around the room as if something in it would give him a clue about their conversation.
“You alright?” he said.
“Yes. I’m ready to leave.” LaShaun walked out past him, and left the church annex building. People stared at her until she got into her uncle’s truck.
Uncle Albert tried to begin conversation, but LaShaun’s one-word answers soon discouraged him. She was glad when they arrived back at the hospital parking lot. She thanked them, then quickly left the truck and went into the hospital. Assured that there was no change in Monmon Odette’s condition, LaShaun went home. She tried to take a nap, but the conversation with Aunt Shirl kept playing in her mind.
* * *
At ten o’clock the next morning LaShaun went back to the hospital. The doctors upgraded Monmon Odette’s status from critical to serious. They moved her into a room. LaShaun continued to pay the home health agency to provide sitters in the hospital. After she got an update from nurse on duty, LaShaun entered the room. The nurse’s assistant smiled at her as she came in.
“I’m just putting some lotion on her legs and arms. Tasha will be here about one o’clock.” The petite woman continued to massage Monmon Odette’s arms while she worked.
“Thank you. Y’all are taking real good care of her.” LaShaun appreciated the neatness of the bedding and the room in general.
“Thank you, ma’am. There now. I’m going to leave some notes with the nurse at the desk, and be on my way.”
“Will the nurse need to come in any time soon?” LaShaun asked.
“No, ma’am. She just took her vitals. She won’t to do that for another two hours. The IV meds and fluids are all set.” She gave LaShaun a maternal pat on the arm as she left.
LaShaun waited until the door whisked shut quietly. She took an antique book from the leather tote she’d brought with her. Before opening it, LaShaun went to the door and looked out. The nurse’s assistant spoke quietly to the nurses on duty. No one else was in the hallway. Reassured they would not be disturbed, LaShaun sat in the chair close to the hospital bed. The brown paper rustled softly as she smoothed out its fragile pages yellowed with age. The window blinds were half closed, and only a soft white light glowed in the room. Soon LaShaun was absorbed in reading the fancy script before her. She struggled to translate the Louisiana Creole French, a dying language rarely spoken even by the descendants of Creoles of color. Some words were unfamiliar. Still LaShaun understood enough to translate spellbinding Rousselle family secrets kept for a century or more.
“So you found it.”
The raspy voice hardly sounded familiar. LaShaun started and looked around the room half expecting to see a phantom. Instead, her grandmother lay watching her, breathing heavily as though just a few words had been a huge effort. She grimaced and pursed her lips. LaShaun put the book aside quickly, and found a plastic pitcher of ice water. She poured some into a cup with a straw and helped her grandmother drink. Monmon Odette turned away to signal she’d had enough.
“I love you, granmér.” LaShaun felt the need to say that before anything else because her grandmother was slipping away.
Monmon Odette moved her head slightly. “I love you as well, child. You’ve found the answer.” Her words slurred and faded.
“Not yet, but I’m still looking.” LaShaun put the cup down and leaned against the bed. She held Monmon Odette’s hand.
“Not a question.”
LaShaun studied her grandmother’s expression for a long time. She read a message in those dark eyes that so many had tried to understand for decades. “You weren’t asking me a question. You meant that I’ve already found the answer. It’s in the book? But I don’t understand. There are riddles and references.”
“You must be…” Monmon Odette’s word was jumbled. She breathed in and out then closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she opened them to look at LaShaun. “Whole.”
“What does that mean, Monmon? Monmon?”
LaShaun leaned in close to her grandmother’s face. She smoothed the wrinkled brow gently with her hands. Monmon Odette’s breathing became regular. Her eyes closed and she drifted off again.
“I shouldn’t be questioning you anyway. This is my task, not your burden. I set this in motion.” LaShaun sighed, kissed her grandmother’s cheek, and sat down again.
“No, you did not.” Her grandmother looked at LaShaun with clear eyes, and spoke in a strong voice. “I passed on to you a great evil, started by your ancestor Jacques Pierre. In my willful youth I carried on the ways of old and tempted fate.”
LaShaun sprang up to stand near the bed again. She smiled. “Now don’t talk nonsense. Once you get better we’ll talk all about the ancestors and our family history.”
“Forgive me, ma Cher, for the burden I leave.”
Monmon Odette’s voice died to a faint whisper. Her eyes became glazed over with an odd bluish cloudy appearance. She seemed to be looking through LaShaun at something else as lips quivered. LaShaun felt like ice had been poured over her head as chill bumps covered her arms. She gently took Monmon Odette’s hand it, but it was stiff and unresponsive. Alerted by the change in the electronic monitoring unit, the nurse pushed through the door and went straight to Monmon Odette. Soon another nurse joined her.
“Stand back please.”
LaShaun, feeling numb, nodded. She watched as they lifted her grandmother’s eyelids and put a stethoscope to her chest. Moments later a young doctor came in. He took over, quietly speaking to the nurses.
“Would you wait outside, ma’am?”
“Yes,” LaShaun replied.
She went to the hallway and whispered prayers for her dead grandmother’s soul to be at peace. Ten minutes passed before the doctor came out to tell LaShaun what she already knew.
Chapter 10
For the next two, days LaShaun went about the business of death. A parade of relatives came to the house, her uncles, numerous cousins, and two of Monmon Odette’s surviving siblings. At Rhodes Funeral home the owner expressed his condolences repeatedly as they made the arrangements. LaShaun resisted his poorly disguised attempts to glean the inside story of her family and the recent events.
Once home, LaShaun went to the beautiful antique armoire in Monmon Odette’s bedroom. In a secret drawer, she found her grandmother’s wishes, written in Monmon Odette’s fluid handwriting. Her grandmother had planned her services twenty years before. LaShaun could almost hear her voice saying, “I don’t want my silly children making up the order of services. No tellin’ what kind of nonsense they’ll put down.”
She spent anoth
er two hours simply looking through her grandmother’s clothes, jewelry, and cosmetics. The scent of lavender sachet pillows tucked into drawers soothed LaShaun’s aching heart.
Turning her attention to the old diaries brought on another sensation. A chill brushed across her arms as she settled into the stuffed chair to read. Fluid lines of handwriting transported her to the past once more. LaShaun read with fascination how her ancestors had schemed and used their gifts to survive in a harsh landscape of slavery and discrimination. Using the supernatural to gain wealth and power was a consistent thread. Included in the thick book were mundane descriptions of domestic life in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Yet mixed in with the list of household items and family recipes were spells. These were the unique combination of the spiritual beliefs from Africa and the Christian religion of the new world. Once again, LaShaun read the passage that had intrigued her; the one Monmon Odette seemed to speak about even as she died.
Lucinda Gravois, Monmon Odette’s great grandmother, spoke of awaking a spirit that had its own mind. This spirit had brought her wealth and helped her family, but at a price. His hold grew until, with the help of two women also skilled in the old religion, Lucinda freed herself. She then talked about giving up the ways of wickedness, and returning to the Catholic Church. Obviously, her daughter had not agreed. Subsequent generations, female especially, had used their gifts again while still attending mass as faithful Catholics.
LaShaun learned the history of her family culture, and the history of Creoles of Color in Vermillion Parish. Even more, she sensed that the answer lay in the pages. Yet the complete picture seemed just out of reach. The room grew dark so she turned on the lamp in the bedroom and kept reading. Totally immersed in the story of her great great-uncle’s fight to buy land in 1874, an insistent tapping sound startled her. It was then that she realized the rest of the house was dark. LaShaun felt a prickle along her spine at being alone. She’d never been truly alone in her grandmother’s house. Thankfully, the large light outside had come on at dusk. In minutes, she hurried around turning on lights in the kitchen and living room. The tapping seemed to follow her. Once she checked that the doors were locked, LaShaun went back to the diaries.
LaShaun flipped back to the pages written so long ago. She repeated the prayer written over one hundred thirty years before her birth. The tapping stopped. She let out a long breath of relief too soon. A loud knock made her jump to her feet.
“LaShaun, It’s me. Are you okay?”
“Yes, hold on.”
She followed the sound to the kitchen door. His caring radiated through wall between them. LaShaun allowed herself the luxury of being happy to see him, even though she knew he shouldn’t have come.
Chase peered through the window set in the door. His frown of worry was visible through the pale yellow curtain covering it. When LaShaun undid the locks and opened the door, he glanced around inside.
“Sure you’re okay? I’ve been calling your grandmother’s phone for over an hour. Then I tried your cell phone.”
“Sorry to worry you. I turned the ringer volume down low on the phones so it wouldn’t disturb Monmon when she was resting. And with reporters calling I didn’t bother to turn them on again.” LaShaun sighed.
“I know this is tough on you.” Chase put his arms around her.
She let him hold her for a few minutes, but then stepped away. “I’m fine, really. So that was you tapping for five or ten minutes.”
“I just got here and knocked a few times on the kitchen door. You think somebody is outside?” Chase went back to the door and peered out.
LaShaun followed and pulled him away from the window facing the woods. “No, this old house makes lots of noise every time the wind blows. Hey, you coming here is a seriously bad idea. I’m a suspect.”
“And I’m here to question you,” Chase said with a straight face.
“Yeah right. I’m sure the town councilmen would believe that. How is Sheriff Triche?” LaShaun moved farther away from him. She wanted to avoid the temptation to lean against his strong chest again.
“Not good. I hear he’s going on medical leave until his official retirement date in September.” Chase sat on a stool at the breakfast bar.
“And who’s in charge until then?” LaShaun started a pot of coffee for them both without asking.
“If Brad’s lobbying works he’ll be chosen, He’s got some local good old boys trying to influence the council. They’re having a special meeting Friday morning.”
“So in two days the man who wants to send me to prison could be in charge of enforcing the law. Great.” LaShaun gave a short laugh empty of humor.
“They could choose me you know.” Chase smiled at her.
“Which is why you need to stay far away from me. You’ve got common sense, so use it.” LaShaun faced him.
“LaShaun–”
She held up a hand. “Even those progressive newcomers will start to wonder about you. Look at the facts. I was a suspect in a high profile murder when I was barely out of my teens. Now I’m accused of cutting off one cousin’s tongue, leaving her for dead, and killing another cousin.”
“Can I say something now, please?” Chase crossed his arms.
LaShaun cleared her throat. “Go ahead.”
“I happen to agree with you, but not the way you think,” he said. “I care about finding out the truth and not compromising any investigation, especially this one. Even the appearance of impropriety could not only short circuit catching a killer, but put you in danger.”
“So we agree that you should stay away, that we shouldn’t see each other again. Great.” LaShaun tried to smile, but her face wouldn’t cooperate. Instead she covered she started to cry.
“Hey, hey, don’t you worry.” Chase crossed to her in seconds and pulled her hands away. He kissed her with loving tenderness. “As long as I’m on the earth you’ll never be alone.”
LaShaun held him close for a few moments then pulled herself together again. “You’ve got to be super careful. Gautreau will be watching every move you make. I wouldn’t be surprised if he as you followed.”
“On these lonely country roads I’d spot a tail in a New York second.” Chase rocked her gently as he spoke. Then he buried his face in the thick curls of her hair. “You smell like heaven.”
“Some folks will think you’re consorting with one of the devil’s daughters,” she said, her words muffled against his chest.
“What a load of bull.” Chase laughed.
She thought about the loa. LaShaun opened the top button of his cotton shirt and touched the pendant she’d given him on a chain around his neck. She sighed with relief then looked up at him. With the tip of one finger, she traced the line of his strong jaw. When his lips parted slightly, LaShaun gave in to temptation and kissed him.
“Thanks for making me feel better than I have in the past seven days.” LaShaun shook free of his reassuring embrace. Starting now she would have to get used to being without him. “With everything going on I haven’t had a chance to ask about Azalei.”
Chase’s expression turned grim. “She was beaten up pretty bad. But the doctors say with rehab she could talk again, even with part of her tongue gone. The question is will she recover mentally. She retreated into a world of her own. Her mother is making all kinds of wild accusations about you.”
“Let me guess; she says I called on my demon minions to attack Azalei and Rita.”
“Pretty much. She says you dance with evil spirits at midnight. She said woods behind this house and the family cemetery are haunted.” Chase shook his head. “I wish I could joke about that stuff, but under the circumstances.”
“A lot of people around here believe in the gris-gris and mojos.” LaShaun thought about the diaries only a few feet away in her grandmother’s bedroom. “It’s funny.”
“I’m not laughing,” Chase said in a dry tone.
“What goes around comes around. My family has succeeded only too well con
vincing people that we do have supernatural powers.” LaShaun shrugged.
“Yeah, well they should have sense enough to know better.” Chase went to the cabinet and got out two of her grandmother’s everyday coffee cups.
He continued to talk, but his voice faded away. LaShaun thought she could hear her grandmother’s soft chuckle. She suddenly had a light-headed sensation, and Chase seemed far away instead of only a few feet from her. Soft bumping drew LaShaun’s attention to the window. A large white moth hit the glass twice before lighting on it, its wings fluttering.
“Family legends and ghost stories are fun told around a fire on a cold night. We have a few tall tales in the Broussard family. But let’s be honest, most of that stuff had a down to earth, very commonsense explanation. Here’s your coffee, sweetie.” Chase extended the cup to her.
LaShaun blinked as the strange sensation passed, and the room came back into sharp focus. The white moth and laughter vanished at the same time. Or maybe she had imagined both. “Down to earth,” she murmured.
“Hey,” Chase waved a hand in front of her face. He put the cup down on the counter. “I think you’re putting on a brave face for me. I’ll stay the night. On the sofa out of respect for your grandmother’s memory,” he added in a prim tone.
“You don’t have to do that. Monmon Odette was anything but conventional, and I think she liked the idea of you and me together.” LaShaun thought back to her grandmother’s smile when she saw them together, and her talk of children. Then LaShaun said low, “Now that is nonsense.”
“Did you say something?” Chase looked down at her.
“No. I should make you go.” LaShaun breathed in the scent of his skin.
“We can avoid each other a little later,” Chase said.
They went to LaShaun’s bedroom and undressed. Once in bed, they simply wrapped around each other. They whispered softly about their respective childhood memories, life in Vermillion Parish and ordinary family traditions; everything else but murder, magic and the dreadful possibilities that waited just outside in the dark.